Shock Me Pink
by TheTheatreGroupie
Summary: A naïve girl, barely eighteen years old, looking for something to hold on to, finds herself in a world where anything can happen and anything will happen. (By the way, this is a Columbiafic.) Strange, dark, angsty, sparkly, and strange again. R&R.
1. Time Meant Nothin'

Title: Shock Me Pink  
  
By: TheTheatreGroupie (clearly)  
  
Rating: PG-13 for obvious reasons (it's Rocky Horror. Think about it.)  
  
Genre: General  
  
Filter: Rocky Horror  
  
Summary: A naïve girl, barely eighteen years old, looking for something to hold on to, finds herself in a world where anything can happen and anything will happen. (This is a Columbiafic.)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own RHPS or any of the characters in it. Or anything I may unintentionally reference.  
  
Author's Note: It seems nobody writes RHPS fics anymore. This idea came to me after watching the movie a third time. I know I'm not the first to write a story about Columbia first coming to the castle, but I at least hope it's a little different. It's dark in parts, be warned. But the darkness is often made up for by sparkliness. (Literally and metaphorically.) Mainly I'm just writing this cause I thought it would be fun to take my own personal look into Columbia's head, but to some extent I want to encourage more people to write RHPS fics. In case you couldn't tell, this story is about Columbia before and during the movie. This first chapter is a little weird. but bear with me, it'll have a point. Please, please, please R&R, I'm desperate to know what I can improve. Flames are fine, but balanced critiques preferred. And if anyone would like to be my beta-reader, then I'd gladly appreciate that.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Today. Today was no different than usual, but at the same time it was so different it's hard to explain.  
  
I was walking home from school like I always do; alone and watching the crowds of happy-go-lucky teenagers go about their business. Everything seemed normal. Everything seemed just like it seemed every other day of the week. I would go home, lock myself in my room, try to do my homework like a good little girl, and spend the rest of the night ignoring my mother, trying to shut out everything around me.  
  
I was walking home when this guy in a pick-up truck caught my attention. He didn't look like any normal guy. In fact, at first I didn't even know if it was a guy. He had on the darkest eye-makeup I've ever seen. It gave him a nearly disturbing look, like he was really important and you wouldn't dare stand in his way. So anyway, this guy, he looked me straight on, he smiled, and he winked. What kind of a guy winks at girls they don't even know? Especially a boring girl like me. I'm not even that pretty; I'm sort of plain, brown hair dark eyes skinny frame just average. And the weirdest thing of all is that I sort of felt like, I don't know. I felt something really strange. Something different. I don't know what it was, but it just seemed like, I don't know. it's so hard to explain.  
  
It seemed like at that very moment everything stopped and.  
  
Time meant nothing ever would again.  
  
The shock of the weird meeting nearly tempts me not to go through with my plan. But in the end I decide that I'm going to hate myself if I don't do it. I have to get out of here. I'm not going to hesitate. I've been waiting to get out of here for so long. I have to get away; I have to get out of this place where I don't belong. I'm too different from them. Purity that is anything but self-imposed. Tap-dancing that is all I have to get away from it. Transparent like glass they don't understand at all. Stifling like a summer day in Florida my mother won't let me go. Freedom like a display at a museum all that separates me from it is a thin plastic barricade. I have to get away from here. I have to make something of myself. I have to get away from these people who ignore me shun me reject me despise me before I kill myself.  
  
Tonight, tonight, tonight. Tonight I'm getting out. Tonight I'm packing my things and getting out. No note no nothing. Notes give clues to where you might be notes mean 'come find me'. Notes are like the little tags on the cakes in "Alice in Wonderland". They beg you to do something. No, tonight I'm leaving here, noteless. I'm taking my chances, but I'm getting out. I'm getting out and I'm not looking back.  
  
But the way it turns out, my plan doesn't work that way.  
  
I can tell that it's not gonna be my night when I forget my house-key as I'm leaving for tap class. All I have in my tap bag is my shoes and a change of clothes for after class. Figuring it's going to be a stormy night, I wear my black windbreaker. It doesn't look good at all, but it keeps me from dying of hypothermia. The only reason I'm even bothering going tonight is so I can say a good-bye to the only place I truly feel like I belong. I hate my teacher, but the studio is like a second home to me. It sounds so tacky when I say it like that, but it's true. I don't fit in at school, I don't belong at home. I actually feel wanted at the studio. It's not enough to tether me though. I'm going tonight to say good-bye and wish for happier things.  
  
Well, when I get there they tell me that my teacher has a nasty bug and so lessons have been cancelled. I ask if I can just go in and dance for a minute. Mystified, they unlock the door and let me in. I look at the mirrored walls, the barre the ballet class uses, the tape player in the corner. I put on my tap shoes and staring up at the sea-foam green ceiling I dance all around the studio, letting my cares fall away. I let go of everything just for a minute as I dance, just dancing and dancing and dancing. The receptionist pokes her head in and tells me she has to lock up. I thank her quickly and head out the door into the night. Rain pours on my head the second I set foot on the sidewalk, drenching my exhilarated body. It seems to be an omen but I don't let it get to me. I start walking home, intending to pack some more things in my bag before I get out of here.  
  
That was a mistake. Remembering I don't have my key with me, I decide the best way to go about things would be to sneak in through my bedroom window and get out as soon as possible. I manage to get myself through the window frame and I start looking for other things to pack. I grab a hundred and fifty dollars out of my bank and take a good, searching look at my room. I am never going to sleep in this room again, I say to myself. I'm grabbing things from my drawers and preparing to stuff them in my bag when my mother enters the room with a crazy look on her face. "Christie, what are you doing?" she asks me. After a split second of contemplation, I decide to lie to her. She won't know the difference once I'm gone.  
  
"I'm going to a friend's house, Mom," I say airily, folding a sweater and stuffing it in my bag. "Christie, that is a fucking goddamn lie and I know it," she replies. I cringe at her language, trying to act like nothing is wrong. I start to head to the door, bag in hand, but she blocks my path. "You're not going anywhere, young lady," she says. I try to shove past her but she pushes me to the ground, screaming things at me about how she has to protect her baby from the world, how I'm not going to leave like my father did. I manage to get up, my bag still in hand, but she keeps screaming and she starts to hit me, slapping me in the face, the arms, anywhere she can reach. I start shrieking, running away from her, but she comes after me, shouting at me and hitting me. I'm able to push her down long enough to give myself some time to get away safely. I've never seen her like this, psychopathically furious. It's scary. I've heard her shout before, when she and my dad were still together, but this is some new side of her. It's like she's been taken over by something, something awful and horrible and crazy and something that looks like it may kill me, intentionally or not.  
  
I frantically try to unlock the door, using the key I grabbed off my dresser, but it doesn't seem to be working. My hands don't want to get this to work. I nearly have the door unlocked when my mother catches up to me. "You're not going to leave, you hear me? You're going to stay right here where you're safe, safe from all the bad things out there." I don't see how I can be safe living in a house with a crazy mother. She keeps hitting me and she screams, not even sentences anymore, just incoherent phrases strung together with curse words. Her eyes gleam like she's being possessed and she keeps hitting and hitting and hitting and I keep shrieking and shrieking and shrieking. She thinks she's protecting me from something. She slaps me hard across the cheek and I cry out in pain, holding one hand to my cheek as I use the other hand to open the door. As I use the door to shove her away from me, my shrieks become sobs. I grab my duffel bag off of the floor where I laid and tear down the driveway. I stand for a quick minute as she sits slumped in the doorframe, stunned and exhausted from her rampage, then crying, I run as fast as I can away from there with my duffel bag still in my hand.  
  
Ignoring the passing cars, I finally collapse at a bus stop, panting and sobbing and trying to think optimistically. What's the use of optimism? Everything I've ever known just evaporated in one evening. A guy wearing makeup winked at me. My dance teacher, my dance teacher who is NEVER sick, was gone. My mother nearly killed me. It seems like a sick dream. I can't believe any of this actually happened. It doesn't seem real at all. I sit at the bus stop for a long time, not caring that I'm getting soaked by the rain. I try to hold myself together but it doesn't work. When the next bus comes I get on, paying with change from my pocket, and take it as far out of town as it goes. It stops and I get off, clutching my bag, trying to figure out what to do next. Street corner, passing cars, nobody cares for the lost girl on the sidewalk. I'm not lost, I'm looking. I start walking away from the small-town happiness, wandering away from the life left behind. Getting farther and farther away from everything I never want to see again. Nobody knows, nobody quite understands. Keep walking till I don't know where I am. I look around and realize that I've wandered into the black hole of oblivion; there's no way to tell where I am.  
  
The frustration has me starting to cry. I sit on the curb stifling tears with my bag scattered forlornly at my side. No-one passing, just me alone in the middle of nowhere and without anywhere to go. I have somewhere to go, away. Maybe my luck will change. I get up, I give up, and I start walking back the way I came. I stop again; realizing I don't know which way is the way I came. Gasping for air through the weeping, I stand perfectly still on the side of the road without a clue what I'm going to do next.  
  
Light in the distance, don't want to hope. Will my luck change? It isn't likely, considering the way things have been going. Light getting closer, closer, stopping nearly right in front of me. I turn the other way and begin to walk. Motorcycle. Keep walking, keep walking. Bag clutched to chest. Can't trust a guy on a motorcycle you've never seen before in your life. "Hey," says the guy. "Hey, kid, you lost or something?" Split second decision. Turn around so fast my long brown braid nearly whacks me in the head, dripping wet and practically lethal. "So what's it to ya?" I remark bitingly. The guy looks taken aback by my attitude.  
  
"I'm headed over to a party and I was just thinkin', maybe you'd want to come?" says the guy. It's my turn to be taken aback. He continues. "You look like you need somewhere to stay. I know some people that'll help ya." He's a biker, tough guy attitude. Wants some arm candy. Well I'm not gonna be that girl. About to keep walking, but I stop. "Come on, maybe he's telling the truth," the voice in my head says. What's the worst that could happen? I'm already about at the bottom of the bottomless pit. So I turn to him and say, "Sure, I'll come." He hands me a helmet and on I hop, carrying the duffel bag firmly.  
  
I'm desperately wondering what's going to happen next. I hold my bag tightly in my lap. Short ride, don't know where I'm going but I'm going somewhere and that's a start. Why was I chosen? Just a plain, looks-young- for-her-age brown-haired tap-dancing girl wandering down the road, never knew traveling life would be so simplistic. I'm surprised that I got lucky, the way my night was going I didn't think I'd ever be lucky again. I shut my eyes, the ride is freaky, going to a party in the middle of the night with a guy I don't even know the name of. I try to imagine happy things waiting for me but nothing seems to be coming to mind. Bike stops, open my eyes, get off the bike, look at my destination. Huge castle, Gothic style, imposing, weirdly compelling. Keep staring; I still don't know where I am.  
  
Me walking up the pathway of a creepy mansion in the middle of nowhere starting to get scared, my bag just about surgically attached to my hand. The guy, right behind me, knocks on the door. Weird guy opens the door, greets the biker, looks at me skeptically. "Who's this?" asks the weird one. Biker looks to me for an answer. "C-Christie," I stammer. Strange woman materializes next to him, shakes her head. "Eddie, why'd ya bring her?" the woman mutters to the biker. I can tell what they're thinking. Strange girl, me, not cool enough for the party. What else is new, I never belong. Just too boring, all I have is tap dancing, they never want me there. The man and woman whisper to each other. Biker heads into the castle, past them, me standing uncomfortably, ready to go home. Strange woman looks me up and down, grabs my arm, leads me up a flight of stairs, my free arm still clutching the duffel bag. Leads me to a room, shuts the door, sits me down on a gold-colored chair. Look around the room, wonder where I am. Feel a strange sense of attachment to this place already; strange, since I just got here.  
  
"Who're you?" she asks. "Christie, Christie." maybe it's better to keep my last name secret, just for my safety. "Just Christie." She looks unconvinced. "Why are you here, Christie?" The woman has a weird accent, a little European maybe. It matches her slightly slutty French maid's outfit. "Just needed a place to stay." I try to keep my answers brief, it's easier. The woman stands and orders me to take off my clothes and put on a bathrobe I'll find in the closet and she'll be right back. I do as she says, finding it comfortable to get out of my sopping jeans and jacket. In a minute, the woman returns with a man, not the biker nor the man from downstairs. At least, I think he's a man. He seems to like. woman's clothes. And makeup. Lots of makeup. I don't think I've seen some girls wear that much makeup. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. It couldn't. No. It is. It is. It IS.  
  
It's the guy from earlier today. The guy who winked at me. I can't believe it. This is too much of a coincidence. It's not a coincidence. It's fate. It was written into the big DayRunner of life. This is the strangest thing. Suddenly I feel that same way I did earlier, all heart- stopping and oh-my-God-why? He's here, this is his house, and I am in it. Here I am. Here he is. And oh, my, GOD.  
  
"En chente," he says. "You're Christie." Despite his appearance there's something really. gripping. about him. I don't want to stop looking at him. Ever. "Yes," I murmur. "Well, Christie, I suppose you've come to the right place." I'm too scared to ask what he means by this, so I let him go on. "We're not your everyday crowd here, but Christie, I can tell you already like it." He's right. I like it. I like it a lot. It's compelling. There's just something about it, I can't tell quite what, that makes me love it here. I just got here, and I don't want to leave. "Now, see if you can't tidy her up a bit, Magenta, and show her to the party. I'll be waiting." He exits the room and the woman, Magenta I assume she's called, begins to go through my bag. She takes out the money and puts it in the pocket of the apron of the French maid's uniform she wears. I elicit a squeal. That's my money, back off, I feel like saying. She glares at me, a cold stare, and returns to unpacking my bag. She takes out the clothes next, examining them and tossing them in the trash. I screech again. Normally my voice is screechy enough as it is, so high-pitched, like a little kid. Lastly, she takes out the tap shoes. She smiles, a creepy smile, not a happy smile exactly. It looks almost crazy in a way.  
  
"A dancer, yes?" I nod. "The master has always loved dancers." I guess the man who was in here before is 'the master'. "Well, Christie, you're very lucky. With a bit of shaping up." She leaves the taps on the bed that takes up so much of the room, opens the closet and leaves. I walk up to the closet with a feeling of foreboding and excitement. Maybe tonight will be the end of boring, quiet me, and the beginning of someone new, someone exciting. This isn't so strange. Nobody will wonder where I am. Nobody will miss me at home. No. Not home. What home? I'm starting over, starting new. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise. The end of my old life, the beginning of my new life. The end of Christie and the beginning of. Columbia. 


	2. Somewhat of a Dancer

Author's Note: So, here's the second chapter. This chapter is basically just focusing on Columbia's self-reinvention, and how she's beginning to have something for Frankie. Hopefully it's interesting. R&R. I need the critique badly.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
I stand over the bathroom sink with a comb and brush, a bottle of "Shock Me Pink" hair-dye, and a pair of scissors. I take my hair out of its' usual French braid, letting it fall to my shoulders. I brush it out slowly and neatly, using the end of the comb to make an even part to the far left of my head. Smiling at the reflection I will never see again, I take the scissors and make a firm, decisive chop close to my head. I copy this all around my head until my hair is shockingly short. I take the hair I've cut off and put it in an envelope. Maybe I'll send it to a kid with cancer. Then I step into the shower with the hair-dye and massage it into my newly shorn scalp. When I step out of the shower, my hair is a really nice shade of reddish-pink. I feel bad, like a rebel even. I've been welcomed into the wonderful world of pizzazz and attitude. It's time to shine.  
  
Step out of the bathroom. Riff-Raff, the weird guy who answered the door, spots me walking down the hallway, singing quietly to myself. I'm happier than I've been in a long time, full of optimism on the way to my bedroom to change for the party tonight. There's a party nearly every night here, it seems. He looks at me strangely; I've been locked in my room since the night I arrived, just thinking and trying to organize myself. Get rid of what needs to be gotten rid of. Disposing of my past, disposing of memories that have no place with me any more. Clearing my head, wiping the slate clean. Dr. Frank-n-Furter, the guy the house belongs to, not the biker, the other guy, has been really cordial. I never thought I'd get such an amazing chance to be around such an amazing guy. Frank is different than any other guy I've known. There's another party tonight and I'm ready to strut my stuff.  
  
I open the door to my closet in my new room. It seems as if by some odd stroke of fate, the room was all ready, decorated in the style I love, closet full of exciting new clothes. Flipping through the outfits, I spot the perfect one. There's a top, skin-tight and sequined, and shorts, much the same way, a necklace with a pink bow-tie and a gold, sparkly overcoat with a matching top hat. I put on black tights with blue socks and my tap shoes, my precious tap shoes, and look at myself proudly. What's the last thing I need? Yes. It's wonderful. I take some black eyeliner and go crazy, fully outlining my big, black eyes in the vanity mirror next to my dresser. I'm ready. All I need is a little flamboyance and I'm all set.  
  
Gathering courage, I walk downstairs, smiling widely at nothing. I know dinner started ten minutes ago. That's why I'm so happy. Time for the new and improved Columbia to make her grand entrance. My shoes click on the hardwood floor as I make my way to the dining room. Open the door. Heads turn. I prop one arm against the doorframe, the other on my hip, legs crossed over like a pinup girl, impossibly bodacious. "Hi, Frankie," I say melodiously. He remains calm, barely noticing me it seems. I'm a bit disenchanted, but for the first time I notice Eddie, the biker from the first night I came, sitting at the table also. "Oh, hiya, Eddie," I say, trying to keep myself from going too squeaky. He's much more appreciative. "Hey there," he says approvingly. He can't remember my name. I don't even know if he knows it's me. Just as well, as I've done a dramatic 360 since he first met me. "It's Columbia," I smile. He's stunned.  
  
I wish Frank was a little more impressed. Really, I did this for him. He wanted a dancer, well here's a dancer if there ever was one. "Sorry I'm late," I say, looking anything but sorry as I take my place at the table next to Frank. "I just lost track of the time." I speak with a teasing note in my voice, full of innocence that's clearly pretend.  
  
Frank doesn't seem to mind. "Magenta, bring something for Columbia here." As Magenta enters the room, she looks genuinely confused at my appearance. I can't say I blame her. Once she's served my plate, she and Riff-Raff murmur to each other in the corner of the room. I ignore them, focusing on Frank and Eddie.  
  
"So, Columbia," Eddie says, testing out my new name. I love the way he says it. "You like it here?" I smile again. "You betcha. Frank is such a great guy." So what if I'm trying to earn points with the doctor? I hear Magenta stifle a giggle from the corner. I don't get what's so funny. I'm paying the guy a compliment.  
  
"Well, I always have been quite a sucker for flattery," Frank says in his tricked-out baritone. "Well, Columbia," he continues. I love the way he says it even more. "I hear you're somewhat of a dancer?"  
  
I laugh. When I was a kid, everyone thought my laugh was so cute, but when I got to be a teenager everyone thought it was annoying, so childish. That was always the way it was, with anything I did really. Talking, laughing, or simply existing. I don't think that my voice changed at all from the time I was about six to now. Minnie Mouse, they called me, so childish and pure. Well this is the end of that. I don't know what Frank thinks about my laugh. He's good at keeping from showing any emotion on his face. Eddie seems to enjoy it. "I dance a little, yeah."  
  
"Maybe you'd like to dance. tonight?" asks Frank. "At the party. Maybe even after?" Magenta smothers another cackle and I'm still not sure why. "I'd love to dance," I say earnestly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Magenta having to escape into the next room she's laughing so hard. What's funny? I feel like asking. I don't. "Well, then, Columbia. We'll see you tonight." Frank excuses himself from the table and makes a grand exit. Eddie tries to engage me in conversation and I reciprocate, but I'm not thinking about what he's saying at all. I feel a little bad for leading Eddie on, but it's so weird. My head is filling with thoughts. Strange thoughts, thoughts I didn't think I would ever think, ever. Especially about a guy like Frank. 


	3. Technicolor Enigma

A/N: Much thanks to Miss Kissi who has wonderfully offered to be my beta- reader! This next chapter is going to be a little. interesting. It involves that explicit activity that we so often associate with Rocky Horror, but don't worry it's not graphic or anything. Just mentioned. This is my first shot at writing romance of any kind, so please be nice. I know I'm not great at it. It had to happen some time though, and I figured better get it over with now. So R the next chapter is most certainly not going to be this intimate. *blushes* This chapter is so unlike anything I've ever written... I'm getting embarrassed just thinking about it. Goodness, I guess I'm purer than I thought. *blushes again* I'm sorry about that. Oh, I'm just gonna shut up and let you read.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Stimulating party scene. Music, food, people. Such a change. Me talking people up, flirting, enjoying myself. I'm not the only one enjoying myself. All of the guests are enjoying themselves, as well as many of them who are enjoying me. Bikers, lots of bikers, flirt, flirt, flirt, flirt, flirt. Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance. Frank likes my dancing. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. I tap-dance my way through the party, attracting stares from everyone. Especially Frank. He seems to really like my dancing. I flirt with him a bit, but distanced, just a sweet little air- kiss across the room, a little toss of the head, alluring mysterious and dare I say sexy?  
  
All of the guests look at me, wondering who I am, wondering how I got here, how I came to be. I simply smile at them as I tap on by, giving my name but not much more. I am an enigma to them, a girl in an old black-and-white detective movie, but very much Technicolor. There's so much more fun in being colorful and bright than being black and white, I can tell you that. It's like a coloring book, empty, waiting for you to fill it in with your own vibrant expressions. I always used to love coloring books when I was a little kid. They're so full of promise. I would keep them for ages after I'd already colored them, not willing to part with the happy world I had filled in for myself.  
  
I blow kisses at some of the guests, wave cutely at some of them, dance around all of them. Oftentimes, I don't dance with anyone, I just dance. It's not that I don't want to dance with them, but sometimes the music just seems to suit a solo more. I'll admit, I love the spotlight. It seems when I dance here, people will watch me. It's a good feeling. It's really, really good. Just dancing, dancing, dancing, I receive attention, compliments, flattery, more than I ever have before. It feels like I have a place for myself.  
  
Eddie, Eddie loves my dancing. I didn't think Eddie would be quite my kind of guy, but oh, he is. He really likes me, and now I really let myself think about it I really like him too. He snaked his arm around my waist during one of the songs and led me over to the refreshments table and right there right there right there in the party he kissed me kissed me kissed me. My very first kiss. I didn't tell him this. I pretended I had kissed many, many guys before him, pretended I was experienced. He tried to stick his tongue in my mouth and I let him. That part wasn't so great. But the kissing, the kissing overall was excellent. I reciprocated the kiss, allowing my lips to effortlessly caress his. After a minute I broke the kiss off. He wasn't so happy about that. I think he would've been fine just sitting there kissing the whole time.  
  
But I wanted to dance. Twirling, turning, tapping, all over the dance floor. The guests watch, the guests admire, I even catch a couple of the guests clapping when I finish a sequence during one of the songs. Except for a couple of kisses with Eddie I don't stop dancing. I flirt with the guests as I dance. I'm not sure why I'm doing it, but I just keep flirting. I act like I couldn't care less about anyone's feelings, or how the way I acted affected anyone. Thoughtless, careless, heartless, mindless. Maybe I've given up on feelings. Thinking too much, emoting too much, not any more. I just smile as I dance. If I know the song I'll sing with it, but most of the songs I've never heard before. I like them. I usually didn't listen to music much at home; all of the "cool" music was too impure for my mother to allow it. But now she's not here to stop me and I love, love, love this music!  
  
By the end of the night I notice that as I've been dancing and flirting I haven't even been paying attention to Frank. In all truth, I kept sneaking glances at him throughout the party, but I manage to make it look like I wasn't paying attention to him at all. It's part of the façade, I suppose. I keep dancing until the records stop spinning and the guests disappear. They sort of just evaporate, fading into thin air until it's just me and Eddie and Frank left. I haven't seen Riff-Raff or Magenta during the whole party. I figure they just sort of clear out when the parties happen; open the doors take the coats and get out of the way. Eddie gives me a kiss goodnight before he leaves, longer and more passionate than before. I walk him to the door with our arms around each others' waists and he promises to come see me soon. He's infatuated. I can tell that. I'm not sure if I'm that far gone on him, but I'm starting to warm up to him, I think. He's really a sweet guy once you get past all the leather'n'motorbike stuff. Really he is. It's a classic case of the misunderstood rebel.  
  
Once Eddie's gone and all the other guests are gone there's just me and Frank left. Determined not to be outdone, he grabs me around the waist and kisses me full-on, not saying anything, just kissing me. My eyes go wide for a moment, but then I shut them and reciprocate the kiss, letting him draw me into an embrace and letting my body press against his. It's beyond describable. It's full-blown passion, passion, passion. He finally releases me and whispers in my ear, "Did you have a good time at the party?"  
  
I twitter a little, and allowing my voice to go as squeaky as it pleases, reply, "Especially at the very end." He seems to like this answer, and he kisses me again, even longer than the first one, and this time I'm not shocked, I respond even better than before. He seems a little surprised by my ardor, but I'm calling on all of the sex appeal I've got in me and it seems to be working.  
  
He kisses me over and over, walking me to a wire-cage style elevator in the middle of the front entry hall. Immediately, I feel stupid for not having noticed before, but he leads me into the elevator, shuts the door, and keeps kissing me as the elevator goes up, up, up, up, up. My insides lurch a little as the elevator comes to a sudden stop in a pink room with tile ceilings and floors and walls and red switches and machines all over the place. "Welcome to the lab," he whispers as he kisses my neck. "Hey, wow, Frankie, you're a scientist?" I show admiration and approval in my voice, letting a little squeal out as he kisses me again. "Only one of the finest," he replies with an odd amount of self-assurance. I've never met anyone with as much confidence as Frank, ever. He's always just so secure with himself. Doesn't need to change to please anyone. I wish I had the same kind of composure. Not able to stand it anymore I suppose, he shoves me into a wall, kissing me kissing me kissing me and so much more. Wow passion lust love kiss kiss kiss more more more more more.  
  
There's so so so much going on. I stare at Frankie's face. He kisses me all down my body, starting at my lips and working his way down. I wail just a little with excitement, never letting my senses fully connect to each other. So much passion, so much energy, so much exhilaration, so much WOW. I let my brain completely lose track and just let my heart and body take over completely, detaching my mind and entering into a state of emotional blackout as the passion overwhelms me.  
  
It's in this state of emotional blackout I manage to find my way back to my bedroom, pulling on pajamas and collapsing into bed with a sigh. The clock on the vanity table says two in the morning. I stare at the ceiling, unable to stop smiling, unable to stop thinking, unable to stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. Did we just.  
  
I think so.  
  
This is beyond anything I would have ever dreamed. Ever. There was some whispering, some flattery, compliments. And then there was. what was it? The magazines always talk about it, and the movies. We talked about it once in school. There was a slideshow. My mom never gave me the talk. From what I learned at school, your parents are supposed to give you the talk. I don't think I ever got the talk. I know my dad never gave me the talk. How could he have? He was never around. Too busy working. "Working". I heard the fights when I was supposed to be sleeping. He was the one doing things he shouldn't have been when he was supposed to be sleeping. Maybe that's why I never got the talk. Sex destroys you. That's what it always seemed like with my parents. They were perfectly fine till my dad decided he wanted more than what he had. Sex. Sleeping around. He left when I was eleven. My mom was never quite the same after that. She was overprotective. She always had been. But it seemed from then on she had to shield me from the evils of the world even more than before. The evils of things like sex. She shielded me to no end. Ironic, her shielding leading me here to the place the shielding completely wears off and becomes totally irrelevant.  
  
So if it always seemed like it could never anything but bad, how come it was just so good? There was something Frankie whispered, "There's no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure." And there isn't. Oh, Mom, if you saw your little girl now. You wouldn't even recognize me. Your very own little Christie, sweet little innocent Christie. There is no such person anymore. Oh, you would never believe it. I'm in a whole other world now. There's no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure. Magazines always say, your first time should be with someone you love. I'm glad to know that they finally said something right in one of those things. 


	4. Don't Fall Too Hard

A/N: And this chapter brings about some revelations and some thoughts. *Gasp* Columbia and Magenta don't start out as friends. Eventually, they're going to reconcile their differences, but at first no, they do not get along. I hope this chapter is interesting. It involves all sorts of strange realizations and let's just say, it's setting the stage for some things that will happen later. Ooh, and thanks to all my reviewers, I've been meaning to thank you already, but thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh, Freeverse, don't worry; things will be explained bit by bit about her past. So R&R and enjoy!  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
I'm flipping through a magazine in my room and listening to records a couple days after the party when Magenta suddenly appears over my shoulder. "Oh, hi," I say, slightly startled. She doesn't say anything, so I return to my magazine, casually bopping my head to the records and acting like she's not just standing there staring at me. She stands there for a while, just watching me read the magazine. It's starting to make me uncomfortable. I nearly just come out and say, "What do you want?" but that might seem mean, so I keep reading. Finally she asks, "Have a good time at the party?" I don't quite understand if this is supposed to mean anything in particular, so I just say, "Yep," and continue with the magazine.  
  
"Fun party?" she prompts. "Mm-hmm," I say, intently reading about the latest trends in Milan. "Nothing too exciting happened?" Now I'm just confused. Why is she so bent on hearing all the little details of my time at the party? I shrug, not looking at her as I reply.  
  
"It was just a party." Magenta stands for a while, contemplating this. Something tells me that she knows I'm withholding information, but it's not her business what I did or didn't do last night, and if I don't want to tell her, I'm not going to. It's my private business.  
  
"Listen, I've seen the girls come and go in this place," she says, surprising me with her candor. "Just don't fall too hard and it can't hurt you." With that, she exits and I'm left to mull over what she's said. I've seen the girls come and go. What's that supposed to mean? Last night.last night was something. something different. Something strange and new. Am I some link in a chain of girls or something? Just another girl to be pushed aside? Frank doesn't seem like he would push me aside, just basing on the events after the party. I mean, I really like Frank. He's unusual, the kind of person you don't meet every day. He's been so nice to me, letting me stay here. He's really something else. I think I may even love him a little bit. And he's smart. A scientist. I never thought I'd fall for a smart guy. I never thought I would even come close to falling for a smart guy. Smart guys certainly wouldn't come close to me. Well things have changed, and Christie is no more, it's Columbia now. All the guys love Columbia; smart ones, stupid ones, cool ones, pathetic ones and everyone in between. Columbia has sex appeal. Columbia makes all the guys say, "Wow."  
  
But then there's Eddie. Eddie's tough, Eddie's masculine, Eddie's into rock 'n' roll. Eddie is dangerous, Eddie lives on the wild side, and I'm sure Eddie likes me. And I like Eddie too. He's a sweet guy. He seems to like me a lot. I'll admit, more than I like him. He seems taken with me. I could like him a lot too. I do like him a lot. I like Eddie, and I like Frank. I like them both. I think they both like me. I like Eddie, Eddie likes me, I like Frank, Frank likes me. I'm a little worried this could cause problems in the future, me liking the both of them. I feel a little bad, being with both of them. I hate feeling like I'm leading them on. But I like both of them, and both of them like me.  
  
Eddie is much more open about liking me. Frank is more "been there, done that". Eddie doesn't care that he likes me, and Eddie doesn't mind acting like it. Frank is so aloof sometimes, so without a care, but it's all a pretense, simply the way he acts. When we're alone... oh, he's not aloof then. Much the opposite. Eddie, Eddie is just... it's different with Eddie. I like Eddie, but I think I may love Frank.  
  
Just don't fall too hard and it can't hurt you. I've already fallen, I'm afraid. Fallen for Frank. Even fallen for Eddie a little, although certainly not as much. What did Magenta mean, it can't hurt you? What can't hurt me? WHAT CAN'T HURT ME? I won't get hurt, no matter what. Not by Eddie, not by Frank. This is the new me, this is Columbia, who doesn't get hurt by anyone. I won't get hurt, because they won't hurt me. Either of them. What did Magenta mean? Why would I get hurt? Frank and I just had some harmless fun. I very much admire him, and his work, and his sense of being.  
  
So what, I like the guy. A lot. And so what, I barely know him, but I adore him. He's a special guy, Frank is, and I do believe I will stay here forever, content with this electrifying life, all Frank, and parties, and dancing, and Eddie, and sequins and sparkles and thrills. This is the place for me. It's stimulating and I have all of the attention I could ever want. I have everything I could ever want. And if I don't have it I can ask for it, and I'll get it.  
  
And so what if I like both of them. I'm not even twenty yet! I don't have to have just one guy. There's plenty of time for me to be serious. And that's the magic of this place. I don't have to be serious. Ever. As far as I'm concerned, it's like living in a fountain of youth. You stay the same general age eternally, if not in body then at least in mind. Nothing changes. Yes, I think I will stay here forever, with Frank, and with Eddie, dancing and laughing and having a good time. Nothing will change, because I don't want anything to change.  
  
And still, Magenta's warning upsets me. Just don't fall too hard and it can't hurt you. It's almost cryptic. But somehow, I think I do know what it means deep down, and that really scares me. 


	5. Midnight Delusions

A/N: Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! Lots of thank you's to all. I  
wrote this chapter rather late at night... does it show?  
~*~*~*~  
Tossing and turning, the bedclothes flying everywhere. Awful nightmare,  
nightmare that doesn't mean – can't mean – much of anything but scares me  
even still. Such a blur of images and thoughts. Screaming, abandonment,  
death, and horrible, horrible things. The screaming becomes real as I wake  
in a cold sweat, my sheets kicked down around my ankles, crying from the  
nightmare. Somehow once I'm in a state of consciousness I can't clearly  
summon the nightmare's contents; all that remains is the recollection of  
someone – it was unclear who – dying, a vague, terrifying sense of  
foreboding and dreadfulness that I can't seem to put my finger on, and the  
sounds of a girl – most likely me – shrieking, shrieking that continues as  
I lie in bed trying to get the dream out of my head, shrieking that fades  
into sobbing. Shivering, half from fright, half from cold. It's always cold  
here at night, which makes me wonder why I'm not listening to the little  
voice in the back of my mind telling me to pull up the sheets and get warm  
again. Instead I pull my knees to my chin and wrap my arms around them,  
shuddering in my blue flannel pajamas.  
I'm crying out loud, little gasps of breath working their way between my  
tears, irrational tears caused by a dream that isn't even real, just a bad  
trick of my subconscious that scares me too much. I sit there like that for  
a long while, trying to take deep breaths through my bawling and attempting  
to clear my mind of whatever had caused that terrifying death-filled  
nightmare. The whole room is dark with the nighttime, a darkness that feels  
ominous in connection to my bad, bad dream. All I can see are faint  
silhouettes of gray against black. After quite a long time, I get too cold  
and in one fluid motion I pull up the sheets and dive under them, still  
crying just a little although I've calmed down some. My arms wrap around  
one of my pillows, holding onto it like it's a teddy bear. I wish I had a  
teddy bear right now, a little symbol of childish comfort to cling to. I  
wish I had anything to cling to, to make me feel better.  
A shard of light projects itself on my wall and I hear a creaking that  
means my door is being opened. I sit up sharply to see who it is, throwing  
my pillow out of my arms, but I don't even need to look when I feel a hand  
on my chest gently shoving me back into a lying down position. He presses  
his torso on mine and kisses my neck and I squeal his name, "Ooh, Frankie!"  
He says nothing, but continues to kiss me and so, so much more. I tremble  
at his touch and begin to tell him about my nightmare, ranting on about how  
he must have heard me crying and oh I feel so much better now he's here and  
I'm so glad he heard me and came, but he puts a finger to my lips in  
patient protest, pressing his entire hand to my mouth completely to keep me  
from continuing to speak as he rotates me in a full circle on top of the  
sheets. Acquiescently, I stop talking and let him have his way with me,  
gasping just a little with thrill as he kisses me all down my body, my  
pajama top coming unbuttoned in his hands. My wish comes true: I have  
something to cling to now, something much better than a teddy bear. A rush  
of ecstasy overwhelms me and I push the nightmare out of my mind,  
concentrating fully on him.  
I lay breathless on my disheveled bed after we've finished and he has  
departed gracefully, leaving me to drown in immoral pleasure. I clutch my  
covers to my chest, sighing with lustful happiness and staring at the  
ceiling. The gloominess of the nighttime doesn't bother me anymore. I keep  
replaying the last fifteen minutes over and over in my head, blissfully  
unaware of anything but the small realm of my reality-based fantasy. Hints  
of the nightmare snap at the back of my brain, pushing their way forward  
when I have an idle moment free of thought, but I control them within  
seconds, refusing to focus on anything but the shameless paradise of just a  
few minutes ago. There's an indefinite, dreamlike quality to the whole  
night, a quality that I'm trying my hardest to hold on to, to cancel out  
the nightmare of earlier tonight.  
In an instant, a voice, Magenta's, sounds in my mind like an alarm. "I've  
seen the girls come and go in this place. Just don't fall too hard and it  
can't hurt you." I thought I had pushed it out of my mind forever, but just  
when I'm in the depths of contentment it comes back to haunt me. I wonder  
for a split second if she might be right. No. I can't let her get to me. I  
can't. I know I'll be all right. I'm not going to get hurt. I can't get  
hurt. I'm loved and wanted here. He sought me out tonight. He brought me  
comfort when I was feeling scared and sad. He knew I was feeling scared and  
sad. He gave me exactly what I was wanting. Magenta doesn't know what she's  
talking about. It's so different, almost indescribable. It's desire,  
passion, love, lust, fixation, and so much more than anyone could ever  
know. I don't even know, not fully. All I know is that I love him, and I  
don't think there's any way to stop. 


	6. Wrapping Paper Revelations

December approaches, full of happiness and good cheer that rubs off on my mood as I walk downstairs to find Frank preparing for another party. Magenta and Riff-Raff are beginning to set up the ballroom, and he's sitting in his throne watching them and giving them suggestions. Ignoring Magenta and Riff-Raff, I walk over to him. "Hey, Frankie. There a party tonight?" I sit on one of the arms of the throne, draping my arm around the back and suddenly coming to a realization as a smile spreads across my face. "Of course there's a party tonight!" I exclaim, feeling dense cause I didn't realize before. "It's nearly Christmas!"  
  
I never was religious, don't get me wrong, but I always looked forward to Christmastime. It was a time when I could shine, a time of happiness and peace. The spirit of the season really got to me. However, it doesn't seem the spirit of the season has even introduced itself to Frankie. "Christmas?" His face is blank, as if he hasn't heard of Christmas.  
  
"Yeah, Christmas," I say, teasing him a little. "Don't tell me... you haven't heard of Christmas!" Frank looks genuinely lost. Magenta and Riff- Raff turn to watch this, looking as if they expect something really funny to happen.  
  
"Oh. Where I come from, we don't celebrate Christmas," Frank says, faltering.  
  
"Where do you come from that you've never heard of Christmas?" I reply, trying to hide a giggle from behind my hand.  
  
"It's a... very small, small country. You've probably never heard of it," Frank says, almost a little too quickly, as if he's covering for something. Magenta and Riff-Raff are glancing at each other almost nervously. They look panicked, even. That's strange; what's the big deal about where they're from? Is it some big super-secret or something? I'm about to say something, ask them why it's such a big deal, but Magenta cuts me off before I can start talking, looking a little urgent as she interrupts me. Soon, though, the urgency fades and Magenta's usual disinterested attitude comes through.  
  
"Well, Columbia, tell us about Christmas then," Magenta articulates, taking a sarcastic tone as she puts down the streamer she was holding and crossing her arms.  
  
"Whaddya wanna know 'bout it?" I ask cheerfully, hoping they won't ask me any religious questions as I'm certainly not fit to answer those and never have been, probably never will be.  
  
"Anything," Magenta says, challenging me with a hint of a smirk appearing on her red, red lips.  
  
"Well, all right then," I start, re-adjusting my position on the arm of Frank's throne and letting the words fly out of my mouth, getting more enthused by the second, my childish love for the holiday showing through. "So, every December, people celebrate Christmas. It's on the twenty-fifth. There's some big religious meaning behind it, but many people ignore that part and just celebrate the fun parts. See, there's a guy called Santa Clause, and he brings the kids presents if they're good. Families go to tree farms and cut down evergreen trees, which they put up in their houses and decorate with all sorts of ornaments and lights. People put Christmas lights on their houses too, some people even have lit-up statues and stuff in their front yards. Then Santa puts presents under the tree and everyone buys presents for each other too. And everyone makes gingerbread houses and eats candy canes and drinks eggnog. And everyone sings Christmas songs like Jingle Bells and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. And if you're lucky it snows and you can make snowmen and snow angels. It's just a general time of celebration and happiness. And see, Santa has these elves up in the North Pole who help him with the presents, and then there's the Sugarplum Faerie, who brings joy and good cheer to the hearts of many, and- "  
  
Magenta stops me. "It sounds so... light." I've never heard Christmas described that way. Light. When you think about it that way, I guess it is. There are certainly lots of lights, on the trees and houses and lawns...  
  
"I guess so," I reply. Neither Magenta nor Riff-Raff seems excited by the concept, but Frank's eyes are gleaming, clearly loving the idea of Christmas.  
  
"Christmas, hmm?" he says, thinking. "Columbia, see if you can't help Magenta and Riff-Raff find some Christmas decorations around. Tonight we will have a Christmas party!" I let out a short, excited squeal, kiss Frankie quickly on the cheek, then rush upstairs to get dressed before it can turn into anything more. Magenta and Riff-Raff seem less than thrilled with this idea, lagging behind to have a talk with Frank, but I don't catch any of it. I love Christmas so much. Christmas is such a great time of the year...  
  
In my excitement, I select a red dress with long sleeves, a short skirt, and silver sparkles to wear for the day ahead. Very Christmasy. Eventually, I hear Magenta and Riff-Raff come upstairs, whispering to each other. As I brush my hair, I dance around my room singing "Jingle Bells" in my high-pitched voice. When I finish "Jingle Bells" I start singing "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree", shuffling my feet and raising my head to the ceiling in song. I go through all of the upbeat Christmas tunes, straight from "Rudolph" to "Santa Baby". I lose track of time and the next thing I know I find Magenta and Riff-Raff at my door watching me belt out "Frosty the Snowman" into my hairbrush and twirling in circles. When I see them standing there, I quickly drop the brush and turn a shade of red rivaling my hair.  
  
"All ready to go?" I ask chirpily, pretending they didn't just catch me acting so silly. They glance at each other, Magenta rolling her eyes at my enthusiasm. I honestly don't think Magenta likes me very much; just the way she acts towards me, so indifferent and unapproachable. I guess that's just the way she is... Actually, on second thought, she doesn't seem to like ANYONE very much, except Riff-Raff. There's something going on between those two, I just know it. The way they're almost always together, exchanging looks and sometimes I'll catch them doing this weird thing with their elbows when they think I'm not watching...  
  
Ignoring Magenta's general disdain for the Christmas season – and my getting into it – I stroll out of my room and down the stairs, waiting at the bottom for them to catch up to me, humming "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" all the while, a grin spreading across my face.  
  
"Where are we gonna get the decorations?" I ask, wondering if by some odd twist of fate they might have some mistletoe and tinsel lying around somewhere, unused. Magenta and Riff-Raff look at each other. "Well, first things first, we need a tree! Are there any evergreens around here?" Neither of them seems to know, so I take matters into my own hands. Thinking for a moment, I begin to come up with an idea. "Okay then, Riffy, why dontcha go look outside and see if you can find one, and then you can bring it back into the ballroom." Riff-Raff does not seem to like being called 'Riffy'. I just giggle, making a mental note to call him 'Riffy' more often, just cause it's so funny to see how he reacts. With an agitated expression on his face, he heads outside. "All right, do you have any mistletoe around here?" I ask Magenta. She shakes her head. "Um, any garlands?" She shakes her head again. "Wreaths? Lights? Anything?"  
  
When it becomes clear that there is nothing of any Christmastime value at the castle, I decide there's only one thing to do. "Hey, Frankie?" I ask as I approach his throne, where he's still sitting. "'Genta and I need some Christmas decorations for the party tonight. Do you know anywhere we might be able to find any? Are there any little convenience stores or anything near here? At all?" This seems like a fairly stupid question, since the castle is basically in the middle of nowhere, but it's the best option we've got.  
  
"Convenience stores? No," Frank says, thinking. Gosh, he's so cute when he's thinking... the absorbed expression on his face that says he's deeply pondering something, his painted ebony eyebrows arching and furrowing, his index finger tapping his chin thoughtfully. I just watch him think for a minute, smiling at him. And then I have an idea.  
  
"Frankie? I'll be right back. I'm gonna go phone Eddie and see if he can swing by with some stuff."  
  
Leaving Frank and Magenta in the ballroom, I run upstairs to my bedroom, where what I take is the only telephone in the house is, since not once have I heard anyone else even mention needing one, and dial up Eddie's number. I know it by heart, but he's so rarely ever there. The phone rings. "Ah, hello?" Eddie's voice says groggily on the other line. "Hiya, Eddie! Did I wake you up?" I ask cheerfully.  
  
"Huh, ah, no, no, I'm fine." He sounds like he might be a little hung- over, like he was out late last night boozing and carousing. I always worry about him when he goes out like that. He doesn't seem to know when to quit drinking sometimes, and he'll get in fights with other guys and get all bruised up. Sometimes he comes by after he gets in a fight so I can make him feel better, pampering him with shoulder rubs and kisses.  
  
I smile thinking about it. "You comin' to the party tonight?" Silly question, he always does, sometimes staying in one of the guest bedrooms overnight afterwards, more recently me sometimes staying with him.  
  
"Course I am, C'lumbia, course I am." He sounds like he just got out of bed, no matter what he says.  
  
"Hey, listen, you celebrate Christmas, right?"  
  
This question seems to surprise him. "Uh, I guess so," he replies, seeming unsure of my intentions.  
  
"Good. Wouldja mind dropping by a little before the party with some Christmas decorations? Nothin' fancy, just some lights, some wreaths, some tinsel." I can imagine the confused look on his face, the inevitable question of why. Coaxingly, I continue, "See, Frankie doesn't have any Christmas stuff layin' around, and I so desperately want to have a Christmas party." I know by playing the little oh-please-please-pretty- please-with-a-cherry-on-top act I'll get him to give in. It always works.  
  
"Fine," he says, pretending it's some huge burden. It really isn't, since he is supposed to be a delivery boy and everything.  
  
"Thanks a bunch, Eddie!" I exclaim cheerfully. "See ya before the party." I pause, then quickly and flirtatiously whisper, "And maybe after too!" then hang up. I saunter downstairs and back into the ballroom, ready to tell Frankie what the plan is. Riff-Raff has returned with the Christmas tree and they're trying to figure out a way to get it to stay standing up straight. I try to stifle a giggle over their efforts with the evergreen as I make my way over to where Frank is still sitting, propping my arm on the back of his throne and talking to him. "Eddie said he'd bring by some decorating stuff before the party, so we just need to figure out some stuff for the tree," I state happily. Frank nods indifferently before turning his attention to where Riff-Raff and Magenta are struggling with the Christmas tree, annoyance written on his face, I suppose wondering why they can't just figure it out as he clearly expects them to be able to do.  
  
After a while, Riff-Raff and Magenta are still having problems, so assuming I know what to do, Frank turns to me, saying, "Please, go give them a hand." I agree to do so, and he approves by kissing my cheek and neck. As I move and he kisses his way down my arm and to my hand, I blow a kiss back at him with my free hand and approach Riff-Raff and Magenta. It's almost funny how they haven't even thought about getting a tree stand or anything. It's like they expect the tree to just stay in place without anything to support it at all.  
  
"D'ya have a tree stand?" I ask them innocently. They look at each other, then back at me with unreadable expressions. Riff starts walking out of the room, to where I suppose they have something to use as a tree stand. Grinning, I wave good-bye like a little kid and say, "Good luck, Riffy!" He cringes at the name and I laugh, turning to where Magenta stands, holding up the tree. "You don't have anything we could use as ornaments, do ya?" Magenta thinks about this for a moment.  
  
"Well..." she seems to be deep in thought, although not completely seriously. "No." Why am I not surprised?  
  
"Don't have anything we could make into ornaments? Some medallions, maybe, or little charms?" Magenta shoots me a look like, are you kidding me? Do we really seem like that kind of people? I don't have to think for a minute about what to do. "All right. You must have some ribbons somewhere, right?" Magenta looks perplexed, but nods. "Where are they?"  
  
"Upstairs in the hall closet," Magenta replies, looking at me like I'm crazy from underneath her heavily made-up eyelids.  
  
"Show me," I demand. Gingerly leaning the tree up against a table, she leads me upstairs without saying anything, stopping in the hallway at a door that she opens to reveal all sorts of odds and ends. I reach in and grab a box full of ribbons and then some glue that's almost too conveniently sitting next to it. "Thanks, Mags," I say, smiling widely as I head down the hall to my bedroom. I can hear her groans over the nickname I've given her as I shut the door and set the box down on my vanity table.  
  
I open my drawer and take out one of my makeup boxes, the one with all of the empty ones, or the ones I never use. Turning on my record player, I bop my head and sing to my records absentmindedly as I glue ribbons to each individual lipstick and eyeliner, each blusher and nail polish. Slowly I turn my left-over makeup into Christmas ornaments, putting them in the ribbon-box when I'm done with them. The tree Riff found was pretty big, so I make sure to use every single rejected cosmetic for my enterprise. When I'm done, I take the box full of beauty products-turned-ornaments and head back downstairs, where I discover they've found a way to keep the tree standing.  
  
"Hey, hey, lookin' great, Riffy!" I say approvingly, setting the box down and beginning to hang the decorations on the tree. Magenta and Riff-Raff look strangely at my discarded make-up as I hang each one of them carefully, spacing them out so there's enough room for the lights Eddie's gonna bring. Once I'm done, I step back to admire my work. It doesn't look half bad, for being no more than a bunch of leftover cosmetics hastily glued to ribbons hung on a tree, hoping they can pass for Christmas ornaments.  
  
Frank rises from his throne, where he's been watching the whole endeavor, and comes over to stand by me, acting as if he's interested in the decorations. Within seconds, though, he's wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into an embrace. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Magenta and Riff-Raff sneak off quietly, whispering to each other with hints of smiles on their faces and gleams in their eyes, but I stop paying attention when Frank draws me closer, sending me into a bliss-filled sensual paradise, kissing me on my neck my lips and anywhere else he can get to. We fall against the table, his arms around me as we kiss and then more than just kissing and oh my goodness passion infatuation obsession kisses compliments lust thrills excitement passion love love love. It's like the Beatles said. "All you need is love." With Frankie it's true. He seems to not be able to keep his hands off of me, almost as if it's all he cares about. Not my mind, not my heart, just my body... but at the same time, it's not as if I'm really much better. I don't stop him... I like him kissing me seducing me loving me. I don't want him to stop. It's just so amazing...  
  
We're rocketed out of our stimulation by the sound of a ringing doorbell. "Eddie's here!" I call out, sitting up straight, sliding off the table, straightening my dress and smoothing down my hair. Riff-Raff appears out of nowhere to open the door, looking slightly tousled. I see Frank looking full of distaste at the mention of Eddie, but I push it out of my mind as he steps in the door, toting four bags full of Christmas decorations. Riff- Raff takes one bag, Magenta materializes as she so often does and carries another, her poufy hair mussed and her lipstick slightly smudged, causing me to wonder about exactly what she and Riffy might've been doing, Eddie keeps one for himself and I grab the last one, dancing into the ballroom with it.  
  
"Look what Eddie brought!" I sing out childishly, tossing the bag on a table and opening it. I take out its' contents, several boxes full of twinkle lights. "Hey, Riffy, wouldja be a dear and hang these up around the house?" I say, throwing him the boxes so he has no choice. He grumbles, but starts to hang the lights up anyway. "Mags, could ya help me with some of this tinsel?" Looking appalled at the very thought of tinsel, she takes one end as I take the other and we pin it to the wall. We repeat this process until the ballroom and the entry hall are absolutely covered with the stuff. Eddie hangs all of the other decorations, the mistletoe and such. When I approach him, meaning to ask his opinion on the tinsel, he drags me under a sprig of mistletoe and kisses me full-on, shoving his tongue through my lips and causing me to squeal just a little bit with delight. Immediately I'm hoping Frankie's not watching as I return Eddie's kiss, my lips softly caressing his.  
  
Once we're finished kissing, Eddie reaches into his bag and pulls out one last item: a furry red Santa hat. He shoves it on my head and I adjust it at a tilted angle, laughing. "How do I look?" I say, striking a pose like a pinup girl. Eddie hugs me and kisses me again in response. I return his kiss – the second in the space of roughly two minutes – and then ease away jovially, feeling a twinge of guilt as I see Frankie looking at us out of the corner of my eye. Oh, I wish it didn't have to be like this...  
  
Not wanting to think about it, I start to walk up the stairs to touch up my makeup, finding Riff-Raff attempting to wind twinkle lights around the banister and complaining to himself. Twittering, I skip down the hall and into my room and I re-apply my eyeliner and lipstick, trying to erase my thoughts of guilt over kissing Eddie so openly right in front of Frank and replace them with happy Christmastime thoughts. I absolutely will not let my remorse ruin the Christmas season. Nope, nope, nope.  
  
It doesn't take me too long, but by the time I'm done there are already guests arriving for the party. There's a group of guests by the door and I manage to make a grand entrance down the stairs, smiling and flirting and attracting perusals from many of them, thoroughly enjoying the spotlight and attention. I guess I'm histrionic at heart.  
  
When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I spot Frankie waiting for me. He kisses my neck and greets me with a warm hello that practically melts the ice coating the landscape. Taking my hand, he leads me into the ballroom and over to a very tall rectangular box wrapped in purple paper with silver ribbon. "Ooh, for me?" I croon, genuinely surprised. Frank never seemed like the gift-giving type, but I suppose I must've been wrong.  
  
He nods and I head for the box, gently tugging on the silver ribbon until it unravels in a neat heap on the floor and delicately slicing the wrapping paper with a red-lacquered fingernail. Once the wrapping paper is removed, the box seems to come apart of its' own free will, revealing a bright blue slightly space-age square jukebox. "Wow, Frankie, thanks!" Childishly, I hug him around the neck, my right foot popping into the air. He seems almost taken aback by my reaction, as if he was expecting something different, less innocent perhaps. Not surprisingly, he quickly turns the display of pure affection into a lustful kiss, starting at my neck and working his way to my lips, hiding his discomfort by making it into something he's more accustomed to. For a short second I'm annoyed that he couldn't just let me give him a hug and be done with it, that he just had to kiss me again right here with everyone watching. The annoyance is new to me; usually I can never get enough of his kisses. I repress a sigh, compliance taking control of me as I allow him to kiss me again for the eighty-four-thousandth time. A strange thought appears in my head: at this exact moment, I would rather be with Eddie. He would not be pushing me to kiss him this much. Odd. Usually when Frankie and I are together it's all I can think about, especially when we're kissing. But for some reason I keep thinking of Eddie. I can't help myself. I don't know what's getting into me. It's that feeling I felt earlier: that maybe Frank doesn't care for my mind or my heart, just my body.  
  
"Merry Christmas," he whispers in my ear, his deep voice so smooth and enthralling. His words send me into an infatuated trance of sorts, causing me to push all of my restlessness from my mind and focus on him as he kisses me, the touch of his lips against mine sending a tingle down my spine. My mind whirs with energy, going ten times its' normal speed. Whatever disapproval I saw on his face earlier when Eddie and I were together has disappeared. It's just him and me again, kissing and our lipstick mingling, leaving traces of his dark cherry lips on my neck and my ruby ones on his cheeks. It's so weird; I never in a million years dreamed I'd be leaving lipstick smudges on someone who left lipstick smudges on me too. But here I am and here he is and that's exactly what we're doing, smudging our lipstick all over each other in the ballroom with all the guests pretending like they're not watching but really they are, hiding behind their hands and glancing at us inconspicuously. For the second time tonight I feel a funny sense of guilt creeping over me; but this time it's because Eddie is watching Frank and I. I try not to look at Eddie, where he stands over by the drinks glumly watching us. I try to ignore it, thinking only about Frankie as he pushes his body against mine and makes out with me until he's contented.  
  
Satisfied with my reaction to his gift, he finishes with me for the moment and heads into the crowd of people, chatting it up and flirting vacuously with guests, who lap up the attention like it's what sustains them. He knows he can find me later and I'll still be waiting for him; no matter what else I might be doing he knows that I'll be willing to devote myself to him and him alone as always. In a way, once his romantic behaviors are focused on someone else, I realize how much I've come to thrive off of him paying that sort of special attention to me. I know his mindless flirtation can't mean anything, of course, it never does; but even still it sort of hurts in a way.  
  
Instead of dwelling on the hurt, I seek out the one I know will make me feel better. "Hey, Eddie," I murmur quietly, finding him standing by the snack table looking into blank space and winding my arm around his waist. He absentmindedly imitates my gesture, halfheartedly kissing me on the cheek for a brief moment before returning to staring off into space.  
  
"Hey yourself, kid," he replies, only halfway paying attention. Suddenly I wish that Eddie would kiss me again, and more passionately; maybe that'd make Frank realize I'm still around. It usually works; I just start flirting with someone else and in a flash, there he is loving me. Oh, but that would be mean. I don't want to use Eddie. I like him a lot, I really do. He's a sweet guy and I know he likes me a lot too. Oh, I feel bad for stringing him along like this. It would be so much easier if I could just choose between him and Frankie... but I can't. I feel like I'm being torn in half sometimes. For the time being I try to focus on Eddie and not dwell on anything – or anyone – else. He's worth my time, Eddie is. And I truly do like him lots...  
  
I notice he's acting uncommonly withdrawn. Usually he's so... oh, I don't know how to describe it. He's just... Eddie. But tonight he doesn't seem himself. After a few uncomfortable minutes of silence, I decide maybe it's time to start dancing. Oddly, he doesn't even try to stop me when I get up, which is really strange. He usually just wants to keep me with him while he can, while my mind is on him and him only. I'll admit, I don't give him the opportunity as much as he'd want. But so often when he comes by it's for a party, and so often at parties do I want to dance. Or I'm with Frankie. I instantly decide to try and spend more time with him, at parties and otherwise. But for the time being, I want – I need – to dance, to distract myself from my worries. If he had put up a bit more of an effort to keep me there with him, I would stay, sure. But I'll find him when I'm done dancing and we can spend as much time together as he'd like. I'll devote myself to him tonight. I will. I kiss him and whisper that I'll be back, then I get up to dance.  
  
The music switches to a particularly cheery song and I move with the beat, spinning and tapping and whirling to the music. Smiling unrealistically, I dance like there's no tomorrow. And maybe there isn't. Maybe the world will end tonight. Who knows? For now, though, I'm not thinking about the end of the world. It's just me and the music and I'm dancing. Dancing dancing dancing. Not worrying about Frankie, not worrying about Eddie, not wondering why Riff-Raff and Magenta looked so mysteriously unkempt when they appeared to help decorate (or why they disappeared quickly after the guests started arriving with that same mischievous look on their faces that says they might be up to something). No. It's just me twirling across the dance floor, emptying my mind and making myself feel better.  
  
Once I'm sufficiently happy, I begin to search the crowd for Eddie's face, hoping to find him and spend a little more time with him, to share my new & improved happiness with him. He deserves it. He really does. He came out here early with decorations. If it wasn't for him this place wouldn't look nearly as good as it does now. And it really does look good... I scan the throngs of people looking for Eddie, discovering he's nowhere to be found. Weird. He's always one of the last to leave, but tonight it seems as if he's the first. He's not on the dance floor, he's not by the tree, he's not by my jukebox, he's not by the refreshments table. He's not here.  
  
Where is he?  
  
I don't remember him saying he had to leave early... maybe he didn't feel good. No, that doesn't make any sense. If he didn't feel good he could stay and I would try to make him feel better. Maybe he just had somewhere to be and forgot to tell me. That's the only reasonable explanation. Even that doesn't make that much sense. Why would he leave early? I could swear I told him I'd be back when I was done dancing. For the first time I realize we really don't tell each other that much, and this makes me feel a little funny. What sort of a relationship is this that we don't tell each other hardly anything? Does this even count as a relationship? What does it count as, anyway? I look over the crowd one more time, making sure I didn't miss him. Nope. It seems as if he certainly has left.  
  
A bit disheartened, I reluctantly go over to the refreshments table, wishing Eddie hadn't left. Instead of reaching for a tumbler of soda like I usually do, I impulsively down a glass of red wine punch (emphasis on the red wine). Drinking age? What drinking age? Not here, not in this castle of sin. I feel the drink coursing through my insides and reach for another. Why haven't I tried this before? Thirstily, I grab another glass and drink it quickly, then another, another, just one more, one more... Oh my, it's good. So, so good...  
  
I feel lightheaded, like I could float on air. My worrisome mood evaporates. Suddenly I feel much, much better. Whatever had possessed me to stop dancing before has disappeared. Full of stimulation, I go over to my new bright blue jukebox and adjust the playlist to play 1950's style Christmas music. Yes, much better! I start dancing again, with more dynamism and animation than before, squealing with delight as I twirl, singing along vociferously to the music. Not stopping, never stopping. Don't stop can't stop won't stop. Dance, dance, dance. Feeling eyes of the guests following me as I dance, I decide to go all-out and give them a good show. Oh yes, keep watching. Keep watching and I'll keep dancing...  
  
During a slow song, not nearly so much fun to dance to as the fast ones, I spot Frankie's curly raven head amongst a large group of guests, charismatic as always. Making my way through the crowd carefully, I walk over to his side, smiling sweetly. "Hey there, Frankie baby," I croon into his ear with a sexy giggle, hoping he'll be as responsive as he usually is. Sure enough his lust overtakes him and he kisses my neck passionately. I let out a wail of pleasure as he pushes his tongue through my lips and explores. "Ooh, Frankie," I murmur with irreverent enjoyment. "Don't stop."  
  
"You foolish girl," he responds vicariously between his kisses in that evocative, sultry baritone. "What makes you think I would do a thing like that?" He says everything like it's the most important thing in the world. I squeal with delight, encouraging him to keep kissing me, a request which he most certainly fulfills, even with the guests looking at us with such interest. They're not bothering to hide it anymore. And you know what? I don't even care anymore. I don't care that they're all watching us kissing. I don't care about anything anymore except me and him and our lips on each others'. I concentrate so fully on him the rest of the world seems to be one big blur. I shut my eyes and concentrate on the feeling of his kiss, the feeling of his lips pressing against mine, his torso pressing against mine, his whole body pressing against mine, until it seems that that's all that's left in the world.  
  
I open my eyes to take in Frankie's face as he kisses me over and over. And then my peripheral vision shows me something I really didn't want to see. Eddie, standing in the doorway watching Frank and I make out. Oh. Maybe he didn't leave after all... Suddenly the lightheaded feeling intensifies. The noises of the party become faint. This strange sensation rushes to my head, a combination of drowsiness, shame, and tipsiness. Everything seems a bit brighter. I notice the floor seems to be swaying. Frank has released me from his embrace. I mumble something incomprehensible even to my own ears before my legs give out and I collapse onto the floor... 


	7. Thoughtfulness In a Box

My eyes flutter open, exposing me to the glowing lamplight of my bedroom.  
I sit up slowly, putting a hand to my forehead to quiet the pounding in my  
head. My mouth feels dry, further testament to the large amounts of  
alcohol I must've consumed last night. Oh, God. I feel like such a  
complete moron. How much did I drink? God, how could I have been so  
irresponsible and stupid? What did I do? Maybe that red wine punch wasn't  
such a good idea after all...  
I fall back on my pillows with a thump. I'm still wearing the red mini-  
dress I had on last night, although my silly Santa hat seems to have  
disappeared. This seems like a twisted dream. I didn't mean to get drunk.  
I must have gotten drunk. That's the only explanation for this... God,  
I'm ashamed with myself right now. I never, ever thought I'd get this  
drunk... I never really thought I'd get drunk in the first place. My head  
refuses to stop throbbing. I shut my eyes again, moaning with hung-over  
hurting as I pull a pillow over my head in despondency. Oh, God. How  
could I have let myself get so drunk? I swear, that punch must have been  
about 2 percent actual punch and 98 percent wine...  
I try to grasp for what happened last night. Frankie gave me a jukebox, I  
remember that. A nice blue jukebox. And then I hung out with Eddie for a  
little while, and then I danced. And Eddie left. No, I thought Eddie left.  
That must have been when I started drinking... (Oh. My. God.) No, but  
there was more. Okay, let's see. I danced some more... and then I made  
out with Frankie. That's when I saw Eddie again, when I realized he hadn't  
left. And then... nothing. That must've been when I passed out... I feel  
so, so idiotic. I wonder if anyone saw, if they got to watch me be such a  
complete imbecile. Probably. It would figure. Oh, God. I just want to  
curl up and die of embarrassment. I can't believe I got so utterly  
wasted... And the way I treated Eddie. That in itself makes me really  
mortified about now. I shouldn't have been so flirty with Frank. But I  
was. Oh, God, I feel horrible. I feel like such an absolutely awful  
person. Last night I had no regard for anybody's feelings at all.  
Groaning, I force my eyelids open again, removing the pillow from my head  
and wincing as the brightness of the lamp hits my eyes. Much as I want to,  
I can't hide in here forever. Take it one step at a time. The guests must  
be gone by now. And besides Frankie and Eddie, they were the only ones  
that saw. Most of them don't even know my name; they just know me as  
Frank's girlfriend, his groupie. It's fine, it'll be fine... fine, fine,  
fine. I try to tell myself that as I remove my dress to change into  
something else. Anything else. Anything that doesn't remind me of last  
night...  
I hear a knock on my door, followed by the sound of it opening and someone  
beginning to enter. Shrieking, I grab madly for anything I can find to  
cover myself, prevent myself from greeting visitors in my skimpy black lace  
bra and panties. "Don't come in!" I screech, scrambling for my bathrobe.  
Once I've cinched the sash, I turn to the door, breathing shallowly from my  
efforts.  
"Are ya decent yet?" a male voice asks.  
"Of course," I say, doing my best impression of a relaxed person, an  
impression that fails miserably when the door opens and in steps Eddie. I  
throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face  
in his shoulder and causing him to drop the box he's holding. With some  
confusion, he returns the hug fondly, I guess in part surprised by my  
unnatural display of raw affection. He removes his arms from around me and  
instead puts his hands on my shoulders, looking at me at arms' length. He  
fixes his gaze on me, searching my face, telling me that he knows something  
is wrong. I stare at him with an expression of wide-eyed amorously charged  
agony and my eyes fill with tears.  
"I feel so awful!" I howl, throwing my barely-dressed self at my bed and  
hiding my face in my pillow. "My head is throbbing. My mouth is dry. And  
I can't believe I was so careless! Oh, God!" Everything that's been  
running through my head escapes from my lips before I can stop myself. I  
feel Eddie's hands rubbing my back, soothing me as I babble and bawl. I  
roll over so I can see him. "I don't deserve you," I tell him, tears  
spilling from my eyes and dripping onto my breasts, which are now being  
showcased in their black lace-covered glory since my bathrobe has come  
undone as result of my despondent outburst. I don't even care anymore.  
Eddie pulls me closer to him, hugging me and letting me weep into his  
chest. My shoulders convulse with sobs. "Oh, Columbia," he whispers.  
"Don't say that. Everyone makes mistakes. I know I've made plenty. It's  
fine."  
Lifting my head, I start crying all over again. His honesty is almost  
frightening; how he's willing to admit his wrongs so easily. "I... I'm  
really, really sorry," I tell him truthfully, my voice quavering.  
"It's all right," he replies calmingly. "It'll be all right." He kisses my  
hair and wipes the tears from my eyes, comforting me in a way I never  
thought he had in him. Delicately, I rest my head on his chest and feel  
the steady rhythm of his breathing as he strokes my artificially pink  
tresses tenderly, telling me over and over and over again that it's gonna  
be fine. He lulls me into believing it really is gonna be fine, believing  
I'm not an awful person, believing that it's okay to mess up cause everyone  
does sometimes. It's gonna be fine it's gonna be fine it's gonna be fine.  
  
He rises from my bed, going over to the door and picking up the box he  
dropped earlier. I look at him curiously and he holds the box out to me.  
It's square, wrapped in red paper with Disney characters trimming Christmas  
trees, a cute choice that makes me smile. "For me?" I ask.  
"For you," he confirms with a grin. I take the box, gently unwrapping it  
and setting the paper aside to keep. It's a shoebox. I remove the box's  
lid and take out a pair of tap shoes, the nicest tap shoes I've ever seen.  
They're blue, with sparkles, and they have a little heel and a strap, not  
the lace-up kind, but the kind that always makes you think of childhood  
dance recitals. Mary-Janes. "Oh, wow!" I exclaim. "I don't know what to  
say! Oh, my gosh. Thank you!"  
I wrap my arms around him in a bear hug to emphasize my thanks. Unlike  
Frank, he lets me hug him innocently, not needing to turn it into anything  
else. He just lets me hug him and he hugs me and there we are with our  
arms around each other just... hugging. I feel safe and warm in his arms,  
like nothing bad can happen anymore. Things have been weird this past  
night, but it doesn't feel weird anymore. It just feels nice. 


End file.
